The Nameless Anthology
by Yin Long Nocturne
Summary: A series of poem expansions, also available on AO3. The Raven by E.A Poe and The Jabberwocky by L. Carroll (from Through the Looking Glass and What Alice Found There)
1. Depths of Despair

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,

Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—

While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,

As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.

"'Tis some visiter," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door—

Only this and nothing more."

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;

And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.

Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow

From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore—

For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—

Nameless _here_ for evermore.

And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain

Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;

So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating

"'Tis some visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door—

Some late visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door;—

This it is and nothing more."

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,

"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;

But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,

And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,

That I scarce was sure I heard you"—here I opened wide the door;—

Darkness there and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,

Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;

But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,

And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore?"

This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!"—

Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,

Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.

"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice;

Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore—

Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—

'Tis the wind and nothing more!"

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,

In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;

Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;

But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door—

Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door—

Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,

By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,

"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven,

Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore—

Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!"

Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,

Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore;

For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being

Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door—

Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,

With such name as "Nevermore."

But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only

That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.

Nothing farther then he uttered—not a feather then he fluttered—

Till I scarcely more than muttered "Other friends have flown before—

On the morrow _he_ will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before."

Then the bird said "Nevermore."

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,

"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store

Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster

Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore—

Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore

Of 'Never—nevermore'."

But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,

Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;

Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking

Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore—

What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore

Meant in croaking "Nevermore."

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing

To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;

This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining

On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,

But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,

_She_ shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer

Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.

"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee—by these angels he hath sent thee

Respite—respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore;

Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!"

Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!—

Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,

Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted—

On this home by Horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore—

Is there—_is_ there balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!"

Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!

By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both adore—

Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,

It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore—

Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore."

Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."

"Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting—

"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!

Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!

Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door!

Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"

Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, _still_ is sitting

On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;

And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,

And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;

And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor

Shall be lifted—nevermore!

~ The Raven by Edgar Allen Poe

**The Depths of Despair**

I reach out for the candle stick, pulling it closer to the page. The cramped script wavers in and out of focus as the flame gutters with my every exhale. Hypnotised by the flitting shadows and the faltering focus of my eyes, my head bows deeper, my mind falling closer and closer to sleep… Then! A tap, tap, a-tapping; so soft I would almost swear it was imagined. But on this night of all nights, it is getting to me. I cannot help it, my search seems only to take me further away from my goal. I can no longer see a path forward.

The fire, long since spent, does nothing to combat the deep winter's chill that sinks through my skin and into my bones. Fitting, is it not, that my physical body should mirror my mental state. My tomes and scrolls offer no warmth or hope to push out the cold that leeches everything from me. The light of my dear Lenore has dimmed to the faintest ghostly embers. As the memory of her, dying with each passing second, her last breath slipping from her body as it lay lax in my arms, it consumes me.

The tapping comes again, pulling me out of the depths of my mind. Ears pricked, poised on the edge of my chair the rustling of the curtains fills my ears and drowns out every sound, except the deafening, sickening thud of my every heartbeat. A metronomic pulse that reminds me every single second that I am alive… when she is no longer graced by the gift that I would so willingly give up for her. With a trembling hand, I pick up the candlestick.

'Some visitor, this is, who comes so late, in this time of such grief.' I shuffle toward the door to my chambers.

'Truly, visitor, I mean no offence, but the hour is late, and I was close to sleep…' I only keep to the barest of courtesies, but I need not have bothered, my words echo in the still, black night. There is no soul in sight; it seems my only company comes from within the illusions of my mind. I am lost in this darkness, in a gloom so thick it is unbroken even by the candle that I hold clasped loose in my hand. But still my mind keeps searching for some reason, some sign… anything!

'Lenore!' whether this first utterance comes from my mouth or another's I cannot tell, but I know that I return the call, 'Lenore!' My lover's name bursts from my lips, reverent and rapturous. She does not appear though, foolish of me to hope such a thing. And no being comes forth to offer any explanation.

With my heart aching fiercely within my chest, I return to my books. But my mind will not settle; my thoughts are rippling and restless beneath my skin. Soon the tapping comes yet again, maddeningly soft, and delicate almost. One could almost think it was just the wind or the branches of the oak outside my window lattice. 'I have been tricked once this night, the wind will not make a fool of me again.' But even as I affirm this, my certainty is flawed, my heart wonders if perhaps, there is any chance at all that it could be…

"Mind over matter" they say, but I have never found it so easy. Yet again my heart has won out over my mind, so I fling open the shutter. And along with the icy night air in steps a Raven, proud and bold with a regally arched neck and glossy black feathers. He gives no thought to manners, he doesn't stop a second on the threshold of my domain. Rather, he wings his way to rest upon the bust of Pallas that sits above my door.

So consumed by this Raven am I that my mind leaves behind the grief for a short time. I have wandered those pointless pathways for countless hours pouring over every skerrick and scrap of information, lore and heresy I could find. Fact or fiction, truth or rumour it matters not. But this ghastly, grim creature that now perches without a care above my door has dragged my mind away from its ruminations and recriminations.

'Do tell me, lordly Raven, what is the name you answer to, on this night of such sorrow?' And I marvel, for in plain English, he replies, 'Nevermore' he says a croaking, rasping cry that clearly comes from his beak. The relevancy of his statement, I do not ponder long, consumed by the far greater amazement of his clear speech.

But no matter what other questions I plied him with, the only reply he ever gave was 'Nevermore'. An unending, incessant repetition of that one melancholy word, and yet again my heart sinks back into the blackness that is my life now and the Raven sits unruffled on his perch above my door, eyes flitting about the room without a care.

'This Raven will fly before long, just as my hopes and all my other companions have before him.' Why should this bird be any different, it seems this is my fate after all, to be left behind.

Yet again the Raven croaks 'Nevermore', startled I return to the present.

'No doubt, it speaks the only word it knows!' Pitying, now that I am sure I know his secret. 'What cruel fates must have befallen its master to have the bird repeat such a melancholic word?' But my curiosity returns to him nonetheless and I drag my chair to sit in the entranceway. As I study the ominous bird that is sat on the bust above my door, as unmoving as ice, my mind returns to the Raven's catch cry 'Nevermore'. Wondering what kind of omen this bird maybe, what further message he might give, or meaning I may have missed. Even in transparency, the Raven is still a mystery.

His gaze on me grows stronger still until it begins to burn in my core like ice cold fire, I close my eyes, trying to avoid the Raven's piercing – knowing - gaze. I lean back into the chair and as I do my hand brushes against the plush velvet lining. So quickly the memories suck me back, far into the depths of my mind, lured by thoughts of my beautiful Lenore.

As if opening the door in my mind to my memories of her calls her spirit to the world of flesh and blood; the air thickens. The scent of her perfume drifts through the room filling my senses and clouding my mind even further.

'Why do you taunt me so? With the presence of my lost love, who I can no longer touch? Please… give me respite.' My pleas receive no answer, not even a shifting of feathers from my avian visitor. Truly, the only respite I get is with nepenthe. My emotions overwhelming me I turn to the Raven, perhaps he will give me answers, even if God will not.

'Whether you are a prophet or a devil, Raven, tell me, is there hope? Will the ragged edges of my soul ever be soothed?' I can feel my brows draw together as a grimace twists my face.

The Raven's only reply is yet another, 'Nevermore.'

'Tell me, bird, in the name of our shared God, will I see my beloved Lenore again, even if only in the next life?' I reword my question in the hopes of an answer past 'Nevermore', my anger growing. I should have known better than to hope for it.

'Leave then, fiend, if you will give me no answers. Let the word you so cherish be the word of your goodbye.' I turn away from him; I can no longer bear to see his stoic form. 'Leave no sign of the time you have haunted my chambers, leave no token to remind me of your maddening cry!'

The Raven did not move one inch, still he sits above my door, his shadows firmly affixed over my soul. His cry 'Nevermore' forever resonates in my ears and echoes within the depths of my mind.


	2. The First's Apprentice

Twas brillig, and the slithy toves  
>Did gyre and gimble in the wabe.<br>All mimsy were the borogoves,  
>And the mome raths outgrabe.<p>

"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!  
>The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!<br>Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun  
>The frumious Bandersnatch!"<p>

He took his vorpal sword in hand,  
>Long time the manxome foe he sought -<br>So rested he by the Tumtum tree,  
>And stood awhile in thought.<p>

And, as in uffish thought he stood,  
>The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,<br>Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,  
>And burbled as it came!<p>

One, two! One, two! And through and through!  
>The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!<br>He left it dead, and with its head  
>He went galumphing back.<p>

"And, hast thou slain the Jabberwock?  
>Come to my arms, my beamish boy!<br>O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!'  
>He chortled in his joy.<p>

`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves  
>Did gyre and gimble in the wabe.<br>All mimsy were the borogoves,  
>And the mome raths outgrabe.<p>

~ The Jabberwocky, by Lewis Carroll

From the book 'Through the Looking Glass and What Alice Found There'

**The First's Apprentice**

"Come boy, sit." The master said, gesturing to a spot near the fire. "It is time you heard the greatest of our legends: The Jabberwock. It is the story of when the First's Apprentice slew the Terror that had plagued these woods for many a season. It is the reason there is always a Hunter and his Son in the Grevbourne forest."

The Son of the current Master Hunter sat with an eagerness he rarely displayed anymore, being of the age where he thought it unbecoming to do certain things he thought would appear juvenile. "The Jabberwock, Master Hunter? But, sir, what is a Jabberwock?" he queried, he hadn't heard of such a thing before in all of his 15 summers. He supposed, though, that it might have been something only the Hunter's Ilk spoke of and he was quite new an Apprentice, taken on by his Master only a season ago as a favour. It was quite likely he just had not heard of it before.

"The Jabberwock is a mighty beast, Son. One that you ought be thankful no longer roams these woods. They say that 5,000 years ago the Jabberwock settled, just north of here; in the very centre of the forest, near Kyt's Mountain. The exact accounts of its appearance have long since been turned to dust, but some say it was a dragon like being, others that it was a great avian creature. But the one thing they all agree on is its might. Its jagged teeth; long, curved claws and a spiked tail; covered from head to toe with hard scales."

"But Master Hunter, if the beast was so fearsome, how did the First's _Apprentice _manage to slay it?" The boy was getting more and more excited and the tale had barely begun.

"I will get there, young man. Patience is one of the foundations of being a Hunter, best you learn that quickly." He said, casting a disapproving eye over his new Apprentice. "Now where was I… Ah yes. Now the Jabberwock was starting to cause great problems, not only in Grevbourne Forest, but the lands to the north and east as well. It was destroying people's livelihoods – eating livestock and flattening entire sections of land. The Jabberwock was also coming dangerously close to the castle. So a year after the Jabberwock settled King Valian sent out a missive to all the towns within his lands. A bounty, for the person who could slay the Jabberwock, from the Kings own coffers. With a reward like that on the line, every able-bodied man rushed into the forest to try their luck. None survived. In 100 years the Jabberwock slew a good third of the population. By now it was King Valian's great-grandson who sat on the throne and he was desperate to find a way to stop the devastation. He consulted his advisors, the Shamans of the North and the Diviners of the East. No one could give him a solution. Then, one day, an old man appeared, his apprentice behind him and claimed that they could rid the Kingdom of the Jabberwock. Delirious with joy, the King said 'I would give you anything you desire, if only you would rid me of this beast!'. Two weeks later they left, following the source stream of the lake that provided the castle's water."

"What was their reward, Master Hunter? Was it gold? Jewels? The Princess's hand in marriage?" The Master Hunter could clearly see the greed and want in his Son's eyes, and he frowned.

"Never you mind, it won't do you any good, thinking of riches in this life. Here we live off the land; there is no need or use for wealth. Nonetheless, you will find out what they asked as their reward at the end of the story."

"Now this next part of the story is something only the Hunter's Ilk knows of, so no spreading it about, clear?" After receiving a nod of admission from his Apprentice he began again. "As they progressed westward through the forest the old man said to his apprentice, 'I have taught you all I know, there is nothing left. However, before you leave my service, I wish for you to pass a test.' He turned to his apprentice, with a serious look in his eye, 'I want you to slay this Jabberwock, prove that you have learnt all I have taught. Then, and only then, will I release you from your apprenticeship.' Sensing the deadly seriousness of his master's words, he agreed without protest."

"But why, Master Hunter? Why would he agree to slay such a fearsome creature?"

"That is _enough_ Apprentice! You will sit down, shut your trap and keep it that way or I will halt this story until I believe that you can sit still until it ends. You are acting like a child who's eaten too much honey. And to answer your question, I believe he agreed because he respected his Master, just as my brother-hunters and I respected mine."

With one last glare at his wayward Son, he continued. Hoping vainly that that would be the last interruption. "As night fell they quickly set up camp in a small clearing near a stream. The apprentice gathered wood for a campfire as the old man fished for their dinner. After they had finished their meal, he told his apprentice the conditions for his task, 'You will receive no help from me. You may take with you only what you can carry and I expect you back within one moon cycle or I will presume you are dead and make my way back to the Castle Halio to give the King my regrets. Understood?' He gave his apprentice the tooth that hung around his neck on a strip of leather. The boy accepted the token, 'You'll be alright out here in the mean time, old man? he said. 'Don't you worry about me boy, I've been doing this longer than you've been alive,' the Master replied, 'As long as you aren't getting too long in the tooth father,' the Apprentice quipped. 'The day I'm too long in the tooth, son, is the day I see your Apprentice with a Son of his own!' the Master countered and they both settled down to sleep. At first light the next morning the boy gathered his pack, a bedroll, slid his sword into its sheath on his back, his dagger into his belt and picked up his bow and quiver. With a nod to his master he disappeared into the trees, and the faded into the faint light of dawn."

At this point the Master Hunter paused for moment to take sip from his canteen. Holding it in a loose grip he stared into the flames of their campfire as he continued, "The boy walked for days, tracking the beast, trying to find its lair. He travelled north through the footholds of Kyt's Mountain, circling to the east as he looked for signs of the Jabberwock's presence - broken branches, large scratches in the earth and very occasionally a mottled green feather, detouring only to gather what foodstuffs he could easily find in the forest he was tracking through. Finally on the day of the crescent moon, he found it. Frustrated by his unfamiliarity with the surrounding lands he had climbed the TumTum tree. Secure in the knowledge that it could easily support his weight, he perched in its highest branches. As he surveyed lands to the north he spotted a large oddly coloured lump on a cliff half way up the barren mountainside. He sat and watched the shape, and sure enough only a few hours later -"

"He really waited for hours up in that tree?" the incredulity in his Apprentice's voice was clear, and the Master Hunter despaired, the boy truly didn't have the mindset of a hunter yet.

"Yes, Son, he did and his patience paid off; when dusk fell it stretched out giant wings and flew off toward the township. The beginnings of a plan of attack formed in his mind, he would sleep in the lower branches of the Tumtum tree that night and set off toward the mountain the next morning. He tucked himself into a comfortable hollow where an old branch had fallen out long ago, nibbling on the nuts and berries he had collected the previous days. He would rise at first light and follow a stream he had seen from the top of the TumTum tree up the mountain."

The Master Hunter paused to toss another log onto their campfire before he continued, "As the Apprentice made his way to the cliff he had seen the Jabberwock nesting on from the TumTum tree he made his plan. It was simple, but the best plans always were, he would attack as dusk fell on the night of the new moon. It was always best to attack beasts of magick when they were made weaker by the new moon, though the Apprentice new he would need the sun's light to fully carry out his plan. His suspicions of the Jabberwock's unnatural origins were confirmed the night after he slept in the TumTum tree, when he watched the Jabberwock fly out of his clifftop nest and return far sooner than it had only a day before."

Seeing that his Apprentice was about to interrupt with yet another inane question he put up his hand to forestall him and growled, "If you so much as utter another sound …" he trailed off menacingly, raising an eyebrow as his apprentice firmly shut his mouth. Eyeing him to make sure he stayed quiet, he told the rest of the tale, "The details of the battle itself are unknown, but we do know that the boy's plan worked splendidly for he slew the Jabberwock at dusk on the night of the new moon. He took it's head as proof of his triumph and made his way back to the place his Master had made camp. He arrived to an almost full moon sharing the sky with the sun. 'You almost ran out of time,' his Master told him in greeting. 'But you didn't doubt me once, or you wouldn't have sent me.' the Apprentice said calmly, setting the Jabberwock's head before his master for inspection. 'That is true,' the Master confirmed as he bent to carve an incisor from the Jabberwocks maw. 'Here, I'll take mine back now, you've had it long enough.' the Master said and exchanged it for the tooth he had given his Apprentice the day he left, nearly a full moon cycle earlier. They took the Jabberwock's head back to the Castle Halio and it is mounted in the throne room with the Apprentice's sword displayed underneath it, as a testament to his prowess."

"But Master Hunter, what was his reward?" the Apprentice burst out, unable to keep the question he had clearly been harbouring since the beginning inside a moment longer.

"You would do well to keep your mouth shut. I have half a mind to not tell you at all. But then you would be laughing stock and so would I for not having taught you properly," the Master Hunter said, shaking his head in exasperation. "The old man wished that his apprentice would be welcomed in these lands forever and always and the boy said he wished to give his answer on another day. In the end he chose his reward to be to grant immunity to all members of the Hunter's Ilk, his chosen family of hunters. Now that you know the history and foundation of the Hunter's Ilk, you will go to bed, and not bother me until the sun is in the middle of the sky."

The Son scurried off, climbing into his bedroll. But he memorized that tale and told it to his Apprentices, who later told it to their Apprentices and so on until it was immortalized in print many years later.


End file.
